Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. It is not at all comme il faut. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. Several people in the crowd seemed to be fighting. ‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door.
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